It was a sunny afternoon, ordinary like any other, and Arthur was leading a self-defense class for a group of rookie officers. The NYPD academy gym echoed with the sharp thuds of bodies hitting the mats, firm footsteps, and clipped commands.
"Always keep your footing steady," he said as he demonstrated. The officer serving as his example flew over Arthur's shoulder and landed on the mat with a dull thump, groaning something halfway between pain and admiration.
"See? You need control. Don't rely on strength alone," he added, straightening up with a faint smile.
As they tried to replicate the movement, Arthur turned to grab a bottle of water. That was the moment his world changed—again.
Near the entrance of the gym, speaking with the police chief, stood a girl.
She seemed out of place in that environment. Her blonde hair shimmered beneath the light streaming through the windows, falling in soft strands over her shoulders. Her blue eyes observed everything around her with genuine curiosity.
[A/N: No, this isn't Seras from Hellsing.]
She looked about seventeen, maybe eighteen. A year or two younger than him.
[A/N: Arthur is 19 years old.]
When her eyes met his, time seemed to stop.
Arthur froze, as if struck by lightning straight through the center of his chest. The noise around him vanished; the entire world dissolved into silence. All that remained was her gaze—a glimmer that pierced through him as if reading his soul.
For a second, he almost dropped his water bottle.
If he had been wearing glasses, he was certain they would have cracked.
The girl quickly looked away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Still, she smiled at him before turning back to continue her conversation with the man beside her.
The man was the police chief.
It was only when he heard her name that Arthur learned who she was.
"Gwen Stacy."
The daughter of Police Chief George Stacy.
He almost laughed. Fate was playing with him again—an ex-assassin, now captivated by the police chief's daughter.
In the weeks that followed, he tried to push the feeling away. He avoided staring when she visited, spoke only when necessary, focused on his classes. But it was useless. Every time Gwen stopped by to see her father or passed through the academy, something inside him stirred.
It was impossible not to like that lively, adorable girl.
It didn't take long for their encounters to become more frequent.
Apparently tired of waiting for him to make a move, she decided to take the initiative.
First came casual conversations. Then a quick coffee. At some point, she began attending his self-defense classes as well—perhaps at George's suggestion.
Arthur was disciplined and rational, often maintaining an absolute wall of coldness around himself to keep people from getting too close. But with Gwen, none of that seemed to matter. She had a different kind of energy. Sweet, yet firm. Young, yet possessed of a mature curiosity that completely disarmed him.
Before he realized it, she was slowly filling the emptiness in his chest.
Her father, George Stacy, didn't take long to notice the growing attraction between them.
The looks he cast at Arthur were cold and evaluative—the kind of look a police officer reserves for a suspect who hasn't been caught yet. Curiously, though, George never said anything directly or tried to stop them. Perhaps it was respect for Arthur's good behavior. Perhaps silent vigilance. Or perhaps, in some way, he had accepted him.
Even so, the relationship between Arthur and Gwen grew like fire.
Gwen brought color into a world that had once been made only of shadows.
She laughed at the absurd stories he told, unaware of how much truth was hidden within them. And he, in turn, found peace in her simple gestures—the way she tied her hair back, the soft sound of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes when she spoke about something she loved.
---
About a month after he and Gwen started dating—around five months after he began working as an instructor at the NYPD—something unexpected appeared before him.
It was one of those systems that usually show up in fantasy stories.
A Login System.
Its function was simple: log in daily and receive rewards, ranging from useless items to strange tools for even stranger fetishes.
At first, the prizes were laughable. Disposable items, useless trinkets, mundane skills that could be learned from any self-help booklet.
But among the rewards, there were a few gems.
Still, nothing seemed out of the ordinary… until the day he received something strange.
[Memory Unlock]
The moment the notification appeared before his eyes, Arthur felt an odd warmth spread through his mind.
The floating screen shimmered in a peculiar golden hue, different from the usual blue the System displayed.
"Memory unlock…?" he muttered, frowning.
For an instant, the world around him seemed to distort. His room dissolved into fragments of light, and a familiar sensation overtook his body.
The sound of wind shifting across stone ramparts. The heavy scent of incense burning in temples. The gleam of massive walls belonging to a city that did not exist in this modern world.
Arthur gasped, clutching his head as disjointed images intertwined within his consciousness: the roar of crowds revering a king.
"King Gilgamesh…" A soft, familiar voice whispered in his mind.
It was the voice of an elegant and intelligent lady who had devoted herself to supporting his reign in Uruk.
Pain struck his mind like a blade. His vision blurred, alternating between present and past—between the man he was now and the oldest hero of humanity.
He saw a towering, pyramid-like structure with several stacked levels, each smaller than the one beneath it.
At its summit stood his marble throne, the gleam of gold, and countless relics arranged before him. His Gate of Babylon, brimming with treasures.
The arrogant laughter that had once dominated the world.
Fragments of Gilgamesh's emotions—his pride and arrogance, the sorrow of a man who had watched his one and only best friend depart before his eyes—began to seep into his soul, only to settle within him.
Enkidu.
The name struck him like a blow to the chest. A fleeting image—the serene face of an androgynous youth with a pure spirit—crossed his mind, and for a brief moment, Arthur almost smiled as well.
His vision flickered one last time before the memories stopped flowing, leaving behind only a new message:
[Memories unlocked.]
[Access granted to the abilities of the Wise King — Gilgamesh (Caster).]
[Warning: mental instability detected. Prolonged rest recommended until consciousness stabilizes.]
Arthur took a deep breath as a strange smile formed on his lips.
"So I had a third life? What the hell."
---
Back in the present…
On the TV, a rerun played of the moment Tony Stark revealed his secret identity as Iron Man to the world.
And Arthur?
Be a hero? A villain? An assassin? A king?
What nonsense.
He didn't want to be a hero—much less a king of them. He didn't want to pose as a savior or ruler of humanity.
Being arrogant, selfish, or cruel with a hint of sadism wasn't his style. So he decided to keep those traits buried within himself and only reveal them if necessary.
For him, it was enough to live comfortably, lie down without worries, and enjoy life beside the woman he loved.
He had left his job as a self-defense instructor at the NYPD a few weeks earlier.
As for money? That wasn't a problem.
He had amassed an absurd amount of wealth during his time as an assassin and later as an NYPD instructor—up until two months ago.
On top of that, he had begun writing books. His years of experience on the darker side of the world, combined with his newly unlocked memories, made excellent material. He wasn't a bestseller, but his works were quite successful—especially in the suspense and crime thriller genres.
(End of Chapter)
A/N: If you're expecting to literally see Gilgamesh here—arrogant, egocentric, and selfish—you can abandon ship. He isn't that Gilgamesh. He has the memories, powers, and abilities, but he is not the original king himself.